In a way
All love is tragic
And all tragedy
Is kind of romantic

My bookshelves still remember you.
They are full of sketchbooks that forgot you broke my heart.
They wear your name proudly across pages trying to capture your smile between its covers.
I don't have the heart to tell them.

I don't want to tell them that those eyes can't tell what I'm thinking without saying a word.
That those hands can't guide me through forests and cities, through anxiety and depression.
That those arms are not home.
That I cannot hear his laugh with those lips.

And until your smile is no longer synonymous with the first letter of "lost" and the first three of "over",
your name will be the only word in my vocabulary
because I don't need anything else.

If only I could draw on a smile,
maybe my sketchbooks would think
I'm happy now too.

if letting go of you
was supposed to free me
when why do i feel
like i’m drowning?

i am
hopelessly
in love with you

you could burn my whole world to the ground
destroy everything i live for
and i would still seek shelter
in the oceans of your eyes

maybe that's why i let you break my heart
and why i'd let you do it again
if it meant you'd hold it for awhile longer

i am just
hopeless
and hopelessly
in love

s.s